


One More Glass

by MechanicalDance



Category: Axis Powers Hetalia, Hetalia - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Feels, France pining, Loneliness, M/M, Mourning, Multi, mostly France being mopey with wine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 21:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7523176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MechanicalDance/pseuds/MechanicalDance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first fic, in which Francis Bonnefoy mourns the loss of the purest love he ever had, and wonders why he cannot find another like it.</p><p> </p><p>"Even so...Francis couldn't bring himself to hate Arthur. Whenever he tried he couldn't blame or hate him for her death...the only person he hated was himself, for not being able to protect her. For allowing her to perish like that... "</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Glass

He sat, staring into the deep sangria liquid swilling around in his wine glass.  
The fifth glass of the evening, but it would not be the last by any means.

Francis often sat to ruminate, and most often, a bottle of wine was his conversational partner. A lot of the other nations, well...they weren't exactly fond of him. They saw only the mask he put on; a lecherous, flirtatious coward, and Francis couldn't exactly prove them wrong. 

He never wanted to be looked down upon, but after so many years of being alone, with nothing but his wine and a false sense of decadence to comfort him, Francis had forgotten how to show his true feelings to others. Or rather...he had become too scared of being perceived as even more of a weakling to even try. 

The nation of love sighed, and took another sip of the wine, exhaling deeply. Hah. Nation of love. Hardly a worthy title when the one true love he had perished in flames, betrayed by those she defended...Francis could never push that memory out of his mind. How could he? Forced to watch her in such agony...

...losing her had pushed him to sleep around in the first place, in some vain hope of filling the hole which had been torn in his life. Of stitching back together the shredded remains of his heart. Obviously it never quite worked, it never fully healed any of the wounds...his string of torrid affairs with other nations served as a messy bandage that only covered the wound as opposed to closing it. 

Not that he could ever let any of them know about that, of course, even the ones that didn't totally detest him. Arthur certainly couldn't know. He'd never let him hear the end of it...it'd just be another thing to mock him for, and that would only add to Francis's hurt.

Did Arthur even know the effect his insults had on Francis? Did he even care? Probably not. He obviously didn't care about much in regards to the Frenchman...after all, he was a cause for the death of the only pure love Francis had ever experienced.

Even so...Francis couldn't bring himself to hate Arthur. Whenever he tried he couldn't blame or hate him for her death...the only person he hated was himself, for not being able to protect her. For allowing her to perish like that... 

He downed the whole glass bitterly, looking to the wilting roses in a vase on his shelf. He should throw those out, and replace them, but right now they were reflective of his mood...so he paid them no heed. Francis snorted lightly.

"Pathetic fallacy at its finest." He mumbled to himself.

The Frenchman regarded the half empty wine bottle before him, and hesitated in reaching for it. He shouldn't. He shouldn't have another. 

"...oh, mon dieu." Giving in, he reached for the bottle, and poured himself one more glass.

Just one more glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo. First fic, what did you think? Feel free to give me feedback, as long as it's constructive.


End file.
